


Loneliness

by HazelnutofFortune (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Loneliness, NSFW but not porn, Sexual Content, dirk is 15 in this so. technically underage i guess, mentions of free-floating hydrozoa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24453256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/HazelnutofFortune
Summary: Swimming had been fun, once, when exploring the ruins, getting some brief and waterlogged insight at his Bro’s way of life, at Jake and Jane, had been exciting instead of just hopelessly depressing.Now it just makes him feel washed out, a shadow of his friends from the past.
Relationships: vaguely referenced dirk/jake
Kudos: 5





	Loneliness

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so just some initial warnings:  
> a) This is technically nsfw of a minor character, but I would not consider it pornographic in any way and I'm okay with adults reading it! Please don't come after me for this being nsfw of a minor; I'm also a minor! 
> 
> b) I wasn't initially going to post this because it's a pretty personal piece and frankly not the most in character thing I've ever written but I've had other people say they've gotten catharsis from somewhat similar things I've written before (and I'm proud of the language in this one) so I decided to anyway! if you're uncomfortable with the subject matter, then please don't read it!
> 
> c) god this fic is really just a whole ass quarantine mood, huh

Dirk emerges from his long shower, puts on his shades, stares at the ceiling, and then takes them off again. He’s exhausted. He flies his dreamself somewhere he can safely ignore for the time being and collapses back onto the bed. 

Swimming had been fun, once, when exploring the ruins, getting some brief and waterlogged insight at his Bro’s way of life, at Jake and Jane, had been exciting instead of just hopelessly depressing. 

Now it just makes him feel washed out, a shadow of his friends from the past. 

So Dirk doesn’t go under much anymore. He’d spent the day lying on the ocean’s surface, staring at the sky, freckling and unimpressed. Velella, sea-surfing hydrozoa that thrive in the post-apocalypse, had drifted past him, moved by great forces beyond their control. 

Dirk’s glad of what wildlife there is left, but velella have always reminded him of the things he hates about his life. Once, in an attempt to share something with his brother, Dirk had jarred some in alcohol, but they’d disintegrated like every other attempt at connection he’d ever thought to try.

Dirk’s shoulders and face are burnt. They’re not bright red, like he got sometimes before he found the sunscreen at the back of one of his brother’s storage containers, but they hurt a little, a stinging reminder of the inescapable heat. He doesn’t think Roxy or Jake really burn at all. Jake sends him selfies, sometimes, when he gives into his yearning and asks, and Roxy doesn’t need him to ask. Their skin is darker than his, clearer. Jane’s is lighter, like his, but she doesn’t go outside very much anymore. He envies all of them, selfishly, wants so much to be anything unlike himself for a little while.

He facetimes them, sometimes, all three, or just one at a time. His skin is the worst of any of them, pockmarked and freckled and scarred from a relentless picking he can’t suppress. His glasses hide his eyebags well enough, but  _ he  _ knows they’re there, and they bother him nonetheless. It’s why he’s more flustered than he’d like when Roxy calls him hot, and Jane and Jake handsome, because he doesn’t see it in himself. His nose is too big and his lips are too thin and his face altogether too feminine.

Not like Jake, Dirk thinks, and does not think further of Jake’s nose or lips or his jawline. He not-thinks harder of his thighs, his hipbones, his dick. 

Dirk tries very hard not to think of Jake this way, but he is fifteen and so, so lonely.

Dirk stuffs his hand down his pants. He’s tired and horny and he can’t escape his dysphoria or his loneliness or his own aching self hatred, but maybe he can feel good for a little while.

He presses his side flush against the wall, which is cool despite the fading evening heat (constant, unseasonal, searingly bright) outside. It’s refreshing, pleasant, and it raises goosebumps on his upper arm. Dirk huffs a sigh, closes his eyes.

He doesn’t imagine anything explicitly sexual, this time or most, banishes all thoughts of Jake from his mind. He imagines the texture of another person’s hair. The warm heat of skin, of exhales in close quarters. He lets his breathing get hard, his forehead get sticky with sweat. He does not let himself withdraw from the intensity of his need, the urgency of the moment. He forces himself to look it in the face, that want.

He imagines a hug, the feeling of muffled laughter against his shoulder, a want that matches his own. Touch.

He comes, gasping into the wall. 

A tear, involuntary, rolls down his cheek and drips onto his neck. He is overwhelmed by the need to be held. 

He waits for the shame to set in but falls asleep before it gets there. 

When he wakes, hours later, the longest true sleep he’s had in months, he finds it has waited for him.


End file.
